


The ageless ocean.

by FruitBird (KiwiLombax15)



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Sad Ending, The great tumblr offload, mer junkrat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-09-20 16:42:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17026353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KiwiLombax15/pseuds/FruitBird
Summary: Based on FroggyFlan's Mer AU.The mer people are immortals.Human's aren't.





	The ageless ocean.

**Author's Note:**

> FroggyFlan did a Mer AU a while back and I wrote this out. It's kinda sad at the end though so Uh.
> 
> Be warned.

There's a beach near overwatch point. It's nothing special to look at, a grey, shingle beach, reeking of seaweed and fish. There's a greasy dock, some battered picnic tables, maybe a few shells. In the sky, sea birds call out as if in pain.

Yet this little beach is something special, a hidden, secret gem in Overwatch points crown. There's a feeling to this dull, grey little beach, a jaunty exuberance. Something draws people here, families and courting couples and budding artists sketching the waves. There's a mystery to the beach, rumours of laughter in the waves, shrieking children pointing to random spots on the water and yelling about mermaids. (Some come back to their parents with handfuls of shells never found on shore, lips tight about where they got them from.)

There's a man there, every day he can, fishing off the dock. Rain, shine, any weather, he's there.

Every day he can.

….

“Mako!”

A smile curves Mako's lips at the voice he once found annoying, so long ago. He hides it quickly, falling back into the old game, pretending to scowl at the creature paddling between the legs of the dock. There's a heavy mist falling, the beach empty in the cold.

“Still here?”

“Always for you, Mako!”

Jamie scrabbles up onto the dock, curving yellow fins flashing in the weak sunlight. Mako hauls himself down on aching, creaking bones to sit, legs dangling off the dock. Jamie curls up in his lap, contented. Mist sparkles on his scales.

“I haven't seen you in a while, Mako.”

“Not been well.”

The smile slips off Jamie's face and Mako waved a hand dismissively.

“I'm fine, don't worry about it.”

Jamie grins again and launches into a rambling spiel about his day, the fish he saw and the shells he collected. Mako sits and listens and nods and pretends the cold in his chest is just the chilly weather. He knows, knows in his bones what's coming, the way his breath catches, his heart beat stutters randomly. He looks at the merman's forever youthful face and just can't bring himself to tell.

He sits. And listens. And nods.

The sun is burning through the mist when he gently moves Jamie off his lap and pushes himself slowly to his feet.

“Better be off, I suppose. Got...things to do.”

“Back tomorrow, Mako?”

“...We'll see.”

He's about to launch himself off the dock when he stops, and turns a glowing, ugly face to Mako.

“Love you!”

There isn't a pause in his stride as Mako closes the gap, bending forwards despite the screaming in his bones and presses a kiss to Jamie's lips.

“Love you too, Jamie.”

He drops into the water, stunned, as Mako leaves. The blatant, out and out affection is rare and unexpected, but gladly accepted. He'd been worried about Mako recently, seeing his hair pale even more, wrinkles colonize his face and his powerful movements slow. They couldn't even do the Fun Thing lately, Mako running out of breath shortly. He's glad to see Mako looks better. He hugs himself briefly, then swims back to his cave. He'll be back tomorrow.

Tomorrow comes.

Mako doesn't.

That's fine. He does that sometimes. Jamie hunts fish and photo bombs some tourists, the usual tricks.

The next day comes.

Still nothing.

A week.

A month.

Jamie is worried now, deeply worried, a cold crawling feeling deep in his gut. Something is wrong, deeply, dreadfully wrong. He waits.

Three months.

He stops playing and pulling pranks, lurking under the dock day in and day out, waiting for the familiar heavy tread. Something in the back of his mind is screaming at him, trying to make him see the obvious. He pushes it down and keeps waiting.

Six months.

A year.

Any day now, he tells himself. Any day now _he's gone he's gone he's gone_ he'll come back with that grumpy scowl pretending to be annoyed.

Any day now.

Two years.

Five years.

It takes ten years for the walls in his mind to break, releasing the truth he'd known for a long time, but refused to accept.

He isn't coming back.

It rains that day, torrenting down in buckets. There's something on the wind bearing down on Overwatch point,a feeling, cold and lonely and sad. There's echoes of salt and seawater, fish and motorbike oil and strength. The song is soft and wordless and carries for miles, wrapping the town in grief. It goes on for hours before it fades, leaving only the rain behind.

The next day the sea is still, the water under the docks empty. The little cave underwater is stripped bare, ready for the little crabs to recolonize it.

Life goes on.

….

There's a beach near overwatch point. It's nothing special to look at, a grey, shingle beach, reeking of seaweed and fish. Once it was something special. If you know the right person in town to talk to, they'll wax lyrical about how the beach used to have something special, almost magical. It's just dead now, they'll complain. Just cold and lifeless now. A chilly, mostly empty beach. There's just a greasy dock, some battered picnic tables, maybe a few shells. 

In the sky, sea birds call out as if in pain.


End file.
